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anticipating the tidal wave

I haven’t been able to write for the last 2 months. I had to slip back into life and be able to function.

So I slammed the door shut on the painful emotions and stayed far away from it. I kept moving, and I kept cramming down the pain (not very healthy, by the way). I just couldn’t take the chance that I would lose myself in the pain and cease to function – because I had committments to keep. But, the longer I did this, the harder it was to keep cramming.

Last night, we passed the intersection where my son was killed. I pass it often when driving to church, the store or to visit friends. Usually I distract myself by holding my breath, saying a prayer, or closing my eyes – but this time was different.

I was startled by a compelling vision of my son. As I saw his face, I could actually feel the intensity of his vitality and his joy. It was momentary, powerful, and deeply painful as I thought, “All of that is gone. I can no longer hold him.”

The pain makes me want to crawl away, find a quiet place and cry. And, I can feel a tidal wave gathering as we get closer to December 7th. I’m shocked to realize that almost 1 year has passed since the accident.

Not sure how I will get through the next few weeks – his anniversary & the holidays. But with God’s grace, I’ll keep moving forward.

3 thoughts on “anticipating the tidal wave”

I am very sorry for your loss. I also lost my son to complications from a car accident 4 months ago. I have not been able to drive by the place where the accident occurred. I know I will have to go by at some point, but I am not ready yet. I hope you have survived the one-year anniversary and have some support from family and friends. The Christmas season is just so difficult for parents who have lost a child because it seems to go on forever, is full of happy families who have been fortunate to have not lost a child, and full of reminders of all the traditions we each built to celebrate the season with our children who we miss so much.

A very difficult day is coming for you. Don’t have any expectations about what you should or shouldn’t do that day. I stayed home from work on the first anniversary of my son’s death last May and I plan to continue that tradition. There’s no way I can be at work acting normal on the day my life shattered into a million pieces. I also stayed home on his birthday and plan to do that again as well. Cry as much as you need to…

How we try and run from all that grief and pain… Yet I know that in time I will have to face my grief. I have good days, and then I have devastating days. I am grateful that I am very busy. I know that I cannot always run. Good luck in your journey.